


A Slightly Less Reasonable Response

by Persiflager



Series: Reasonableness [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Spanking, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-28
Updated: 2012-03-28
Packaged: 2017-11-02 15:23:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/370476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflager/pseuds/Persiflager
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock asks Lestrade to help him make John jealous. Lestrade agrees to help in his own way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Slightly Less Reasonable Response

The rain finally broke halfway through Lestrade’s walk home. He ducked into a shop doorway with a prayer of thanks, and took the opportunity to test out his latest smoking substitute. He gave a guilty start when Sherlock loomed into sight. 

“It’s electronic,” Lestrade said, waving the white plastic tube. “Doesn’t count.”

Sherlock squeezed into the doorway. “I’m not here about that. I need you to fake having sex with me.”

Lestrade blinked. “I don’t want to have sex with you,” he said, prioritising clarity over curiosity for the moment.

“Hence the faking it.”

Lestrade managed two more artificial drags before he caved. “Why?” he asked.

“Because John has done something unspeakably awful with Mycroft. Mycroft’s always fancied you, this will be perfect.”

“Thought you weren’t sleeping together?”

“We’re not.”

Lestrade nodded. “But you’d like to be.”

Sherlock’s look of disgust was very similar to the look Lestrade’s cat had the last time he tried to feed it dried food.

“Don’t be revolting.”

Lestrade took a moment to appreciate the fact that his marriage suddenly looked the epitome of a healthy relationship. Sherlock tapped his fingers impatiently.

“Well? John will be home in a couple of hours.”

Lestrade raised his eyebrows. “Not in a month of Sundays. Why would I?”

A hint of a smirk played across Sherlock’s face. “Because I’ve got a video of the 2003 department talent show.”

A deliberate puff of nicotine-vapour in Sherlock’s face failed to have the desired effect of wiping the smirk off as Sherlock inhaled it greedily. 

“So you think that in exchange for that I’d do something even more embarrassing, which you’ll probably record anyway? Dream on, sunshine.”

Sherlock scowled. “Fine. I’ll come down to the station and look over those cold cases you’re always going on about, even though it will be a colossal waste of my time.”

It was actually quite a good offer, especially compared to some the undercover work Lestrade had done in his time. He still shuddered when he thought of the roller disco.

“Fine. For the video and the cold cases,” he said eventually. Sherlock beamed. Lestrade was about to add a fairly lengthy series of caveats when a customer inside the shop pushed the door open and they were both forced to move out onto the pavement in the rain.

“You have to promise me that you won’t call me in the morning,” said Lestrade, grabbing Sherlock’s arm to make the point.

“Yes, yes,” said Sherlock as he shook Lestrade off. “Come round to Baker Street at five o’clock.” He strode off with his coat billowing behind him. Lestrade turned and went into the shop to buy an emergency pack of cigarettes; he had a feeling he might need them later.

.......................

At quarter past five that afternoon, Lestrade was grateful that he had the lovely, reliable cigarettes waiting for him in his coat pocket. For reasons that hadn’t been made entirely clear to him, he was sitting on the sofa in Baker Street with his trousers and underwear pushed halfway down his thighs and Sherlock poking at his flaccid penis.

“Oi!” Lestrade said, batting Sherlock’s hands away. “Stop that.”

“You’re not erect,” said Sherlock in a disappointed tone.

“Of course not,” said Lestrade. “I’m straight and you’re .... you.”

Sherlock frowned at him. “This might not be my area of expertise, but I don’t thinking catching us _in flagrante_ will be very convincing if neither of us is erect.”

“Well, why does it have to be me?”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you think that life would be considerably different if I had the remotest interest in fiddling about with my genitals?” He lost interest in Lestrade’s penis and flopped back on the sofa.

“Can I put it away now?” asked Lestrade. “This obviously isn’t going to work.”

“In a minute,” said Sherlock, waving his hand vaguely in the air. “I need to come up with an alternative sexual scenario that doesn’t require erections. How do you feel about bondage?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Lestrade looked side-long at Sherlock. “Would _you_ let you tie you up?”

“Hm. Fair point.”

A spark of an idea occurred to Lestrade. It quickly grew into a conflagration of absolute genius.

“I might,” he said, desperately trying to keep his voice casual, “be persuaded to spank you.”

“Oh!” said Sherlock, brightening. “That’s not bad, actually. You’re not quite as hopeless at this as I-“

“Drop your trousers,” said Lestrade as he pulled his own up, “and get on your knees.”

...............................

Ten minutes later, Lestrade heard the front door open as John finally came home. He ignored it in favour of lining up his hand for the next strike. He smacked down with a satisfyingly loud noise onto Sherlock’s underwear-clad arse.

“Thirty-six,” hissed Sherlock into the sofa cushions. He was kneeling across Lestrade’s legs with his hands braced on the armrest and his head hanging down.

John walked into the living room and paused when he saw them.

“Afternoon,” he said, carefully looking at Lestrade’s face and nowhere else.

“Afternoon!” said Lestrade cheerfully, and he brought his hand down with another smack.

“Thirty-seven! Oh Lestrade! Harder!” shrieked Sherlock in a spectacular display of acting powess. 

“Right then,” said John. “Would either of you like a cup of tea?”

Lestrade got in another quick slap before replying. “Please. Milk and sugar?”

“Thirty-eight! Oh, that is marvellous!” yelled Sherlock. John backed away into the kitchen. Sherlock sat up rubbing his arse.

“Well, this seems to be going very well,” he whispered with some satisfaction. “Don’t you think?”

Lestrade shook his hand to try and get some feeling back. “I don’t know. Do you think you call me Greg?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Please. We want this to be plausible.” Lestrade was about to respond to that when he heard John coming back from the kitchen. He grabbed Sherlock by the back of his neck and shoved him back down just in time for another smack.

“Ooh, thirty-nine,” moaned Sherlock. Lestrade managed to keep a straight face as he took the proffered cup of tea from John and set it on the coffee table. 

John stood there for a moment, this time taking in the full panorama. 

“Fair play,” he said at last. “Can’t say I haven’t wanted to do that on a few occasions.”

Lestrade smiled, not sure of what to say in response, and slapped Sherlock again.

“Forty,” he moaned. 

“Right. Well, I’ll leave you two to have fun then.” John watched for a moment longer before leaving the room and going upstairs. Lestrade got in one more smack for good luck.

“Ha!” said Sherlock, sitting up and punching his fist in the air. “Did you hear that?”

Lestrade pursed his lips. “You lost count,” he said mildly. “We agreed to go to fifty. Now you’ll have to start again.”

Sherlock eyed Lestrade speculatively for a long moment before settling docilely back into position. Lestrade was starting to feel wonderfully relaxed, as if years of resentments were being purged. In fact, he was feeling so magnanimous that he decided not to mention the rather large erection that was currently brushing against his thigh.

He raised his hand and brought it down with the tender firmness of a loving but angry god.

“One,” said Sherlock, texting furiously with one hand. Lestrade raised his hand again.

“Two.”


End file.
